I'll Always be Home by Christmas
by AnthonyGrey
Summary: Alfred just couldn't understand that Arthur needs to work, even during Christmas. It was that time of the year where he thought at least both of them could sit together and eat dinner like a normal family would. Teen!America (around 15 y.o) and Non-mid-20s!Arthur (around 20 y.o). Rated for language.


"Why not!" echoes of the sound are heard in the small flat that both Arthur and Alfred lived in, "You said you'd be home early for Christmas!"

"I told you I can't! I need to stay at the office!" Arthur retorted to the younger person "I have this book I need to edit by today"

Things have been rowdy at the flat for quite a while now; it is but a usual antic which happens any other day between the two of them.

"You never did stick to your promises!" The younger shouted, he seemed unusually annoyed by the sound of the tone, "Why should I trust you in the first place?"

"Alfred!" The Briton paused for a moment before continuing on, "You do know that it is not my call to stay at the office today, right?" The tone sounds as equally annoyed as Alfred's.

"Might as well say that all your promises is basically nothing but _bullshit_" Alfred replied; the tone, very sharp.

"Alfred!" Arthur was shocked by the language he was uttering "Don't you dare talk to me in that language!"

"Oh, pardon me," this tone was not apologetic a single bit, "_Sir_ Arthur Mc_Twat_son", emphasis was laid on _twat_.

In a very sudden manner, an open palm met Alfred's left cheek in a very high velocity, it hit with a loud slap. That hand was Arthur's, and a few moments after the impact, he immediately regretted what he did.

Alfred did not retaliate much after Arthur slapped him; he knew that he had overstepped the boundaries when he started to insult Arthur. It was something he never wanted to do, but at the heat of the moment, he lost control and blurted it out.

"Just go home as early as you can…" Alfred whispered, and he proceeded to lock himself in his room.

Arthur froze for a few seconds; all he thought was the hand that hit Alfred in the face. He proceeded to write a sorry note on the table and notify him that there are leftovers in the fridge.

_How sad, leftovers for Christmas night dinner, _Arthur thought before grabbing a piece of toast and went to the office.

* * *

Flickering lights from Arthur's office desktop screen was met with an empty shell that was of his eye. Arthur froze in his chair for a long while. For him, the usual 9-to-5, followed by 5-hour overtime on the very day felt like an eternity, not one moment passed without him thinking of the younger blonde.

"Mon Dieu, L'Angelterre," That familiar yet annoying French accent rang a somewhat surprised tune on Arthur's eardrums, "No day off for today? Alfred must be patiently waiting for you".

"It's none of your business, frog." His tone was the usual, always equally sharp addressing Francis "If you would be so concerned about going out on Christmas, why are you in office?"

"I'm working half-day," the Frenchman replied, in a very endearing tone, seemingly taunting Arthur into jealousy, "I wouldn't miss moi date with Matthieu", it's from that statement Arthur heard that he was having plans on the evening, "Au revoir, L'Angelterre".

Francis exited the office as soon as those words were uttered, leaving Arthur and a handful of the work-at-Christmas employees.

Soon enough one by one of the employees left the office: Roderich went to have dinner with his wife; Vash went out to the amusement park with his sister; Feliciano, Ludwig, Lovino and the serial work-skipper, Antonio had plans of staying up late watching the final of a football cup (oddly enough, Arthur equally enjoyed football, but he swayed from this plan because his most beloved team is kicked out on the group stages).

The relatively quiet atmosphere of the office is then turned into a noise void; Arthur is the only resident in the office.

The clock struck 5.

He thought of Alfred, possibly disappointed as Arthur could not fulfill his promise.

The clock struck 6.

He thought of Alfred, possibly eating the stodgy leftover pasta they had the day before.

The clock struck 7.

He thought of Alfred being rebellious and does not do the dishes; he gave in anyway because it is his fault that he can't be home at Christmas.

The clock struck 8.

He thought of Alfred being at home, alone, bored, nothing to do.

The clock struck 9.

He thought of Alfred, Arthur forgot to buy Alfred any presents for Christmas.

The clock struck 10.

Arthur just realized, he has not been productive for the whole day, working only a fraction of what he needed to be done by that day. But since it's already time, he packed his things and went home.

* * *

Arthur stopped in a trinket shop and a cake shop before he went back home; he needs a Christmas cake and a present as a compensation to Alfred, but he didn't expect anything in return.

Arthur arrived at his front door at around 11.28, his detour has taken him quite a while and the return train had gone somewhat late.

…little did he know Alfred threw him a bit of a surprise.

This 'surprise' apparently took the air right from his mouth before he could say "I'm home", Arthur was stunned to see the dinner table fully set up: a lit candle, a small gift box, a personal Christmas cake and the leftover pasta from the day before; all of them arranged in a manner of a restaurant.

Beside the candle, there was a small note, it read:

_Dearest Arthur,_

_Merry Christmas!_

_I'm sorry, I was rude this morning - I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted to spend a day with you, I was looking forward for today, but even today I can't do that._

_I understand that you have work that needs to be done and that should be your outmost priority. Complete them as fast as you can so that we can spend time together, ok? _

_Regards,_

_Alfred_

_PS. Sorry, but all I can buy is this small cake. Don't be mad when you open the box, I don't have much money left with me._

Arthur froze for a bit after reading that note, he almost shed a tear, but halted before he had the chance. He proceeded to have the little dinner Alfred set up, he couldn't feel the stodginess of the pasta and the cake seemed a tad sweeter than it actually is.

Arthur folded the note and kept it inside his journal before unwrapping the small gift that Alfred had also prepared for him. He found a small pen with a small card inside the box. The pen was but an ordinary pen, the one that you can find in any stationary shop with a reasonable price. Arthur took the card and read it, _to the world's greatest editor_; he smiled for a bit before stowing both the pen and the card in his bag.

Arthur entered Alfred's room to see he was already snoozing on his bed. He carefully placed a trinket he purchased for Alfred in the desk beside his bed, alongside a small note, the note read: _to my little Christmas angel._

Arthur proceeded to advance onto Alfred's bed, carefully avoiding all the mess that was laid in a very concise way by Alfred, cautiously passing through paper bags from McD's, mountains of laundries and haphazardly stockpiled comic books on the floor.

When he reached Alfred's bed, the first thing he did was to stroke the boy on the cheeks. Arthur proceeded to sit on Alfred's bed, continued to caress him like a baby. He kissed him lightly on the forehead and lightly whispered "Merry Christmas, Alfred" before leaving the boy to sleep in peace.


End file.
